“Und wenn ich geh, dann geht nur ein Teil von mir.”

From a phrase by German pop singer Peter Maffay, it translates to English as, “and when I go, only a part of me is gone,” (132-133). I feel as though this quote captures Peter Wohlleben’s theme perfectly from his book ‘The Hidden Life of Trees’. The story is a refreshing meditation on trees as systems, and how they drive the function of forests from the minute to the universal. It is amazing what trees are capable of when they are left to their own devices, and how there is a wild sense of self-governance, and community, in the forests of the world. Trees are, in fact, much better off uninterrupted by people from a successional standpoint. And we are undeniably impossible without them.

Wohlleben covers such vast subjects as climate impact (microclimate impact), soil structure and fungal relations, chemical reactions as pesticides, advertising in the aid of sexual reproduction, time and how trees apply time to their overall system, and wildlife’s totally ironic and symbiotic relationship with the trees of the forest.

Wohlleben is able to discuss the tree’s biological processes in the context of language. This language is what we must decipher and translate in order to better understand trees as organisms. Trees are communicating with themselves and many other organisms all the time. People are sometimes slow to translate what the trees have to say, but, when we step into Wohllenben’s world and observe more, we can learn that trees clearly have much to say about themselves and the world around them.

Some concepts I found charming:

“Assuming it [beech tree] grows to be 400 years old, it can fruit at least sixty times and produce a total of about 1.8 million beechnuts. From these exactly one will develop into a full-grown tree-and in forest terms, that is a high rate of success, similar to winning the lottery” (29).

“There are more life forms in a handful of forest soil than there are people on the planet” (86).

“Birds, martins, and bats are particularly partial to the thick trunks of older trees. They like thick trunks because the sturdy walls provide especially good insulation against heat and cold,” (125).

“Tree crowns even contain specialized wetland habitats,” (132).

“In total, a fifth of all animal and plant species-that’s about six thousand species we know about-depend on deadwood,” (134).

“But what is a statistic worth when you apply it to an individual tree? Just as much as it is worth when you apply it to an individual person-nothing,” (155).

“It’s possible that phytoncides have a beneficial effect on our immune systems as well as the trees’ health, because they kill germs,”(223).

“Under the canopy of trees, daily dramas and moving love stories are played out,”(245).

My selections only barely scratch the surface of what W0hllenben magnifies for the reader with his lens hovering above the world of trees.

Although forestry and arboriculture are very different in many ways, I believe there are many things that the arborist can learn from how trees react and grow in natural forests. Especially from the favorable conditions that specific trees grow in, and the potential they have to reach unbelievably awesome ages. Arborists can use the design of the forest in order to better develop the design of the urban forest.

After reading this book, I am left with a very strong sense of community. How fitting, I guess, that Wohllenben really latches onto this thread of not just functioning communities of trees, but also what role trees play in the greater community of the forest, and the greater community of the world. I am left with an undeniable sense of connection to trees, because Wohllenben lets us believe we are more like trees than we think.

And maybe that’s just the ticket for the arborist. When we feel a better sense of connection to what we care for, we tend to care just a little bit more.